


Love You Too, Asshole

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Bas Bosses, Cuddles, Fluff, I'll Add More When I Think of More, KK's POV, M/M, One Shot, POV Second Person, Will Not Continue, Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 02:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You smile slightly. Leave it to Soll to make you smile when you feel like shit." In which KK has a bad day at work, Sollux flips his shit, threatens to kick all of KK's coworkers' asses, and then cuddles. I have no better summary.<br/>T for KK's mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love You Too, Asshole

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this at about eleven last night, and (after many distractions) finished around two, so it's pretty crappy quality. I think I have all grammatical and spelling mistakes checked and edited, but that doesn't improve the overall quality, so sorry for that.

You slam your door shut and throw your messenger bag into the chair by your fridge, swearing under your breath. Stale air greets your lungs, only making your mood worse; you haven’t been back here in a while, and you do not look forward to equally stale sheets.

Your chest is tight, there's a lump in your throat, and as you yank off your jacket, tossing it to the ground in your room without another thought, you're fighting back tears. You _hate_ your fucking job, your fucking boss, and your even more fucking life. Oh, you're good at your job of decoding random shit everyone else is too stupid to figure out, very good, but no one gives a fuck about how many hours you spend cleaning up your company's fucking messes. They all think you sit around for hours screwing around on your computer, getting high because it’s so easy to blow off a job as _simple_ as yours.

Ha! You’d like to see _them_ try to decode three thousand pages of text in five hours without an algorithm!

You swear out loud this time, kicking off your shoes before checking for messages on your answering machine. _Ooh, how surprising._ Even your fucking friends don’t give a big enough shit to call you. Grumbling, you turn off all the lights in your apartment and change into sweats and a fresh t-shirt, stuffing earbuds in your ears.

You settle onto your bed, opening your candy-red laptop and flicking through your night’s assignments. It’s mostly just shit about viruses, and you decide to do a few before turning in; you can finish the rest of that simple shit in the morning.

 

*

 

Half-way through your eighth assignment, you have a cup of tea in your hands, and your back hurts from sitting cross-legged on your bed for so long without anything to lean against. You ignore the pain, clacking away at the keyboard with one hand while _Loaded Gun_ by Chris Sligh plays in your ears.

God, you love this song, and you have absolutely no idea why. Maybe it’s the violin? Maybe it’s the sappy meaning behind the lyrics?

You sigh over the lip of your mug, turning to look at your clock. It’s well past nine now, nearing ten, and you should be hungry, but just the thought of food makes you sick. During lunch, you were verbally attacked by your coworkers about how _easy_ you have it, and how it’s not _fair_ how much money you make in comparison to them. Okay, you get enough to firmly keep hold of your relatively nice apartment, but it isn’t much, and Sollux says, with the work you do, you should be getting three times your current salary.

You don’t really trust him on that, because he’s just so apeshit bananas with the same shit you do, he just does it as a hobby. ‘Course, his parents have kind of set him up for life as well.

This earns a growl from the back of your throat and you pause your furious typing. Oh yeah, it must be _great_ to have enough pocket cash to pay for a year’s rent without having any worries.

Shit, you’re being spiteful. It isn’t his fault his parents own the largest software company in the world. And he’s been very generous when you haven’t been able to make ends meet; which is more often than you’d like to admit.

The song ends, breaking your train of thoughts, and you realize your tea’s gone cold. You just stare at the opaque gold water for a minute, then shut your laptop and go out to wash your mug.

As you’re turning away from the sink, the “new message” light on your answering machine is blinking, and the dial says you have ten missed calls. Three hours ago, you craved these messages, but now you just blow them off, hissing in annoyance at the machine and heading back into your room, shutting off the light before collapsing face-first into your bed.

You groan against your pillow, yanking your earbuds out and cutting _Prayer of the Refugee_ off mid-song. The silence of your apartment is eery, but you kind of welcome it after the hustle and bustle of one pretty shitty Monday. Yeah, the quiet is rather nice, so you lay there for several long minutes.

Your oh-so precious silence is cropped short by the ringing of your home-phone. It’s beeping nearly drives you up the wall, but you don’t get up, instead choosing to huff into the feathers and cotton pillow-sheet, waiting for the beeping to end.

Whoever is calling you must be really worried or something, but you can’t find a single bone in your body that gives a fuck right now, so when it starts ringing again, you grab an extra pillow and shove it over your head. The scent of honey greets this movement, and you feel a pang of loneliness, but brush it away, turning your head and looking at your clock again.

It’s only been eighteen measly minutes since you looked at it last, and you realize it’s far from a time where you can successfully fall asleep. Thanks to all the all-nighters you pulled during high school and college, you’ve developed terrible sleeping habits.

With your music gone, you here the vibrating of your cell phone somewhere within the depths of your apartment. You ignore it the first few times, then decide the caller must be a fucking paranoid, so you huffily reach over to the jacket you discarded by your bed earlier, pulling out your now-silent phone. _Six missed calls, twenty unread messages._ You sigh, flipping it open.

Three of the calls are from your best friend Gamzee, and he was probably stoned as fuck when he called in the first place, so you skip down to the ones from Sollux. All the messages are from him too.

 

\--TwinArmageddons [TA] started pestering CarcinoGeneticist [CG] at 6:43 p.m.--

 

TA: hey kk, where are you?

TA: you've already gotten off work, riight?

TA: do you need a riide?

 

\--TwinArmageddons [TA] ceased pestering CarcinoGeneticist [CG] at 7:56 p.m.--

\--TwinArmageddons [TA] started pestering CarcinoGeneticist [CG] at 8:03 p.m.--

 

TA: are you comiing back to the apartment toniight?

TA: ii mean, it’2 fiine iif you don’t

TA: ii ju2t want to know

 

\--TwinArmageddons [TA] ceased pestering CarcinoGeneticist [CG] at 8:06 p.m.--

\--TwinArmageddons [TA] started pestering CarcinoGeneticist [CG] at 8:23 p.m.--

 

TA: kk, ii’m getting really worriied

TA: where are you?

TA: kk, ii’ve called your landline liike ten tiime2

TA: where the fuck are you?

TA: iif you don’t re2pond 2oon, ii’m coming over

 

\--TwinArmageddons [TA] ceased pestering CarcinoGeneticist [CG] at 8:32 p.m.--

\--TwinArmageddons [TA] started pestering CarcinoGeneticist [CG] at 8:56 p.m.--

 

TA: kk, where the everloving fuck are you?

TA: ii triied calling GZ, but he doe2n’t know where you are eiither

TA: are you working late or 2omethiing?

 

\--TwinArmageddons [TA] ceased pestering CarcinoGeneticist [CG] at 9:04 p.m.--

\--TwinArmageddons [TA] started pestering CarcinoGeneticist [CG] at 9:15 p.m.--

 

TA: holy 2hiit, kk

TA: ii’m ju2t a22umiing for the moment that your phone iis off or dead

TA: but ii’m about to fliip my 2hiit, 2o hurry up and re2pond

 

\--TwinArmageddons [TA] ceased pestering CarcinoGeneticist [CG] at 9:28 p.m.--

\--TwinArmageddons [TA] started pestering CarcinoGeneticist [CG] at 9:56 p.m.--

 

TA: ok, ii’m coming over

CG: I’M HERE FUCKASS

TA: je2u2 chrii2t, kk

TA: where the fuck were you?

CG: I HAD HEADPHONES IN AND MY PHONE WAS ON VIBRATE

CG: SORRY

TA: iit’2 completely fine, you know, be2iide the fact that ii wa2 about ready to barge iinto your apartment, thiinkiing you brought a giirl back or 2omethiing

CG: YOU DO REALIZE I’M NOT BI, RIGHT?

TA: well, then brought a guy back

TA: 2hit kk, ii don’t know. you freaked me out

CG: SORRY, I HAD A REALLY BAD DAY AT WORK

TA: oh. coworkers?

CG: WHO ELSE?

 

You sigh, flipping onto your side to better text with both hands.

Geeze, now you feel like shit, not telling Sollux you hadn’t been kidnapped or something. With you staying over at his place the past few months, of course he’d expect you over today too. ‘Course, you were too busy feeling sorry for yourself to think about him.

God, you hate yourself sometimes.

 

CG: SHIT, I’M REALLY SORRY SOLL

CG: I WASN’T... THINKING

TA: you 2tiil want me to come over?

CG: NO

CG: I’M FINE. IT’S A LONG DRIVE OVER ANYWAY

TA: ii don’t miind, kk

CG: I SAID I’M FINE, FUCKASS

TA: let’2 pretend you can hear me siighing exa2peratedly

TA: kk, you never don’t have your phone on you

TA: what the fuck happened today?

CG: NOTHING DEVIATING FROM THE USUAL

CG: OH, BUT APPARENTLY MY BOSS THINKS I’M AN INSUFFERABLE TWIT

TA: well, we all know he’2 a ba2tard, kk

CG: THAT’S NOT ALL

CG: APPARENTLY I’M AN IGNORANT KID WHO GETS HIGH ON THE JOB BECAUSE I DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT MY FUTURE, AND ANYONE IN IN THE COMPANY CAN DO MY JOB

CG: BECAUSE APPARENTLY I’M SOME PITY CASE TAKEN ON BY MY BOSS

TA: ....

TA: ii need name2 and addre22es 2o ii can kiick all of their a22e2

 

You smile slightly. Leave it to Soll to make you smile when you feel like shit.

You settle into your bed, pulling the comforter over yourself and tossing the other pillow back to the opposite side of the mattress. You don’t know how Sollux stands having a pillow that firm; soft and fluffy all the way for you.

 

TA: you 2tiil there?

CG: YEAH

TA: kk, maybe you 2hould get 2ome 2leep

CG: WHAT, THIS EARLY?

CG: YEAH, I’LL GET RIGHT ON THAT

TA: 2top beiing a 2narky a22hole, kk

TA: you need the re2t more than ii do

CG: THAT’S NOT GOING TO MAKE ME FALL ASLEEP JUST LIKE THAT

CG: I’M NOT FUCKING SLEEPING BEAUTY

TA: oh, but you wii2h you were

CG: SHUT UP

TA: but 2eriiously though, can’t you at least try two 2leep?

CG: NOT GOING TO HAPPEN FUCKWAD

TA: plea2e?

TA: (iimagiine ii’m pulling my puppy face)

CG: (IMAGINE I’M PULLING MY “DON’T GIVE A FUCK” FACE)

TA: je2u2 chrii2t, you’re in2ufferable

TA: kk, ii wiill come to your house and 2have off all of your haiir if you don’t go to 2leep riight now

CG: FINE, FINE

CG: WHATEVER

TA: heh heh, ii knew that would work

CG: SHUT UP

TA: goodniight kk

CG: NIGHT FUCKASS

TA: ....

TA: love you, iidiiot

 

This stops you in your tracks. You two have been together for what... five years? And not once within those five years has he ever told you he loves you.

You feel a blush explode across your cheeks, and find the corners of your mouth tugging up into a grin.

 

CG: ...

CG: LOVE YOU TOO ASSHOLE

 

*

 

You don’t remember when you fell asleep, and you don’t remember for how long, but you do remember waking up. Well, you can’t call it waking up if you don’t physically get out of bed, so let’s just say you remember being _roused_.

You hear a key jingling in the lock of your front door, causing a shot of panic to bolt through you, (what if they’re a burglar?) then realize only Gamzee and Sollux have spare keys. What kind of burglar uses a key?

You listen without opening your eyes as footsteps make their way into your room, followed by the shuffling of removing shoes and a jacket. Then the side of the bed your back is facing sinks down with another body’s weight, and a bony arm snakes around your hips, pulling you close to an equally bony, but comfortable chest.

You give only a slight, half-asleep protest, earning a chuckle from the lispy asshole nuzzling his nose into the hair at the base of your neck. He chirs softly against your skin, thumb rubbing soothing circles on your hipbone.

It’s easy to settle back into him then, breathing and heartbeats matching as he holds you against him. You only vaguely wonder why he’s here, but you’re too tired to care. You’re just happy. Happy he made the forty-minute drive over here in the middle of the night. Just to cuddle with you.

Oh yes, it is quite possible to blush like a fucking tomato while you’re technically still asleep.

“I love you, nookthucker.” He whispers into your ear, sending a faint shiver up your spine.

“Iloveyoutoo,asshole.” You manage to slur, and he plants a kiss on your neck before immersing himself back into your hair and hooking the hand over your hip with one of your own, lacing the fingers together.

Okay, so maybe this Monday wasn’t so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Yerp, so I don't own _Loaded Gun_ , which belongs to Chirs Sligh and his record company, and I do not own _Prayer of the Refugee_ , which belongs to Rise Against and their record company. Oh, and I own none of the characters; they belong to Andrew Hussie.
> 
> So, my friend told me to post this here as well as Fanfiction.net, but that does not mean I like this. In fact, I do _not_ like this _very_ much. I am, however, incapable of writing anything but SolKat right now; I need to find a new fixation -___-' So here's something from my "To Scrap" notebook. Enjoy?
> 
> ~Webs


End file.
